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13 YZ 


SO THAT YOU, TOO, aay share with 
us our memories of the past, our joys of 
the present and ear hopes for the future, 
we, the freshman class of 1942 hare pre- 
pared this book. 


Callage is a great place* There a student learns for himself 
many of the things his parents vainly tried to teaeh him when he was 
at home. 

When we registered last September as freshmen, little did we 
realize what lay before as. Perhaps if we had known then how much 
effort and perseverance would be required before we completed the year, 
we might net have had saeh confidence* Bat new as we look back we 
feel that we have already been repaid many times for everything that 
we have put into this first year of college* 

Life seems different to as because we can see more of it and 
can understand it better* When our professors say that we as Freshman 
are adufcts and should conduct ourselves accordingly, they are merely 
indulging in wishfal thinKing, for in reality many of us are just in 
the process of beooming adult. Not for all of us, but for many, college 
life has been the first real test of our self reliance* For the first 
time we have been cast into the sea to sink or swim. We who have sur- 
vived feel a certain pleasure in being overcomers, but some have failed. 
That makes us realize that we could fail, too. 

Then we have met the steady grind of life which can so dull a 
man's soul that he forgets about music and love and God, and can see 
only a monotonous Job, three meals, and a bed. If we don't become 
one-tracked in our thinking we may come out gems. If one is cutting 
a diamond, he turns it on many sides. To grind it one one side only 
would in the end wear away the stone completely* Grinding is necessary 
to produce gems, but the process hurts* 

Last fall many ef as -nor* so impressed by one outstanding 
Christian or another that we subconsciously thought he was perfect 
too. Bat as we became better acquainted we discorered faults in them 
and they no doubt did in as. And although we know these faults are 
from a lack of thought and understanding, and we realize that at heart 
these people are sincere and genuine* nevertheless we feel a sense of 
disappointment. Our rosy ideals have been smashed. 

This, however, teaches as not to look at people but to fellow 
Christ, the perfect ideal. God uses such imperfect creatures as men 
to do His work here on earth. As we know people better, we get a 
better idea of His love and patience. 

Perhaps at the end of this year we can appreciate the mood of 
the Wedding- Guest in the "Rime of the Ancient Mariner:" 
"A sadder and a wiser man 
He rose the morrow morn." 
No doubt we're wiser; we should be sadder. We may be disappointed 
with the world bat we are not disillusioned. Bather we realize more 
than ever that Christianity and Right and Truth are lasting and real. 
We see that ear task is to preach to this suffering world the gospel 
of Jesus Christ. 

Whan a freshnan first comes to £. IT. 0., he is at once 
impressed by the beauty of the campus. After he has been gradu- 
ated from the college, although other memories may fade, pictures 
of familiar campus spots will linger. To the man who plans for 
the landscaping and directs its care, the Rhetoric classes dedicate 
this 1942 edition of the Greenbook — Professor W. J. Verner Babcock. 

Associate Editors 

Literary Editors 

Features Editor 

Art Editor 

Humor Editors 

Snapshot Editor 
Business Managers 


Vernon Jordan 
Dana Payne 

Louise Brown 
Ellen Park 

Mary French 

Astrid Park 

Harvey Amos 
William Mac Kay 

Eddie Dell 

Jaek Uaybury 
Ealph Flaugher 

Ellen Park 
Lucille Schuler 
Dana Payne 

mf JWf 

3Wr# ffiyfrj? f /f^ o#^ ^v^> '^; 




Words are Like Clothes Jack Maybury 

A Glimpse of the White Mountains Mary Coffin 

My Home Louise Brown 

Haircuts Elizabeth Ennis 

Attending Church • Cassandra .winhee 

Twenty Mule Team • Harvey ^mos 

Alarm Clocks Ellen Park 

Poetry Louise Brown 

Caribou Valley Vernon Jordan 

The Denti st Dana Payne 

Deer Spotting Party Beryl Granger 

A Rainy Day Alton Higgins 

Evening Dana Payne 

Credo Louise Brown 

General Store Ralph Flaugher 

Chemistry J. C Dixon 

I Believe the Bible • Vanetta Kerling 

The Sharecropper * J* C. Dixon 


" Spinning Yarns" '/Grandpappy Amos" 

"Spun Abroad" 
"Snap Shots" 

"Fireside Fables" Compiled by Mary French 

"Family Album" Daguerreo typist Eddie Dell 

"Words are the dress of thoughts; which should no more he 

presented in rags, tatters, and airt, than your person 


— Lord Chesterfield 

Words are like olothes. By putting the right words 
together one forms a pattern. Words may be an eighteenth cen- 
tury suit — out-of-date and odd. A well formed pattern of words 
shows the master tailor's touch by being cleTer and expert. Too 
colorful adjectives, like gaudy olothes, are showy. Verbs may 
be passive old socks badly in need of mending, or may show action 
like the farmer's dusty overalls. Women's hats are pronouns be- 
cause they never seem to agree. Houns are kingly robes, for they 
tell you in a minute what they are. uonjucctioas form the stit- 
ching in clothes because they do the connecting between the dif- 
ferent parts of a sentence, come words and phrases are old clothes; 
both are worn out and new ones are needed. The suffix and prefix 
may be likened to the buttons on clothes — only a small part but 
they may change the style, just as a prefix or suffix may change 
the meaning of a word. Different words suit different occasions, 
but both clothes and words are used to cover the subject. 


Oa vWw 

Jttmm ormtL/Mc/iomMJ 

"High mountains are a feeling, but the hum of human 
cities torture." 

— Byron 

About one nundred and fifty miles from Boston is loca- 
ted the famous and beautiful White Mountain National Forest* 
It was my privilege to take a trip to these mountains last 

An outstanding memory is the "Old Man of the Mountain," 
mentioned in the famous Hawthorne story. A symbol of the 
grandeur and constancy of nature* the mighty rock outlined 
against the sky typifies New England life of our forefathers 
and the Indians before them. It is a marvelous sight to see, 
that high sheer cliff, and then the Jagged protuding rooks 
that form the man. We passed Sugar Loaf Mountain and Twin 
Mountain, and finally oame to the foot of Mount Washington. 
There before my eyes stood the very thing I had always iioped 
and longed to see. What a monument of beauty and grace and 
grandeur I beheld. When I thought on it, my soul was thrilled 
to think that the God who created and placed that sturdy old 
Mountain there oared for even me. 

As we continued on our way through some more of the 

hills of old Sew Hampshire, my soul and body were thoroughly 
cleansed that one afternoon from the old city life. All my 
dreaded anxieties left me and 1 was renewed and refreshed to 
face a hard year of work and study. 

On our way hack we stopped to see Gannon Mountain, 
towering up before us like some giant about to fall upon us 
and grind us to powder. 

The air is so pure that one can almost taste its fresh- 
ness. Then there is the smell of pine. The scent is invigora- 
ting and uplifting. Why is the world content to spend its life 
in a cold and crowded city, when out beyond is God's own open 
country of beauty and purity? Y/hy breathe stale and dead air 
when we can take into our lungs the freshness of the open 

After seeing all this and more, I came back to the hot 
and uninviting city. 

/?;ww v^r Oc 

"But what on earth is half so dear-- 
So longed for — as the hearth of home?" 
— Emily 3ronte 

If I should say, "I haven't been home for eight years," my 
family and friends would, no doubt, fear for either my mental or 
ray moral completeness. As a matter of fact, I have never been away 
from my family for a period longer than eight months. Still, I 
shall say in all sincerity, "I haven't been home for eight ^ears." 

Lty home was situated among the hills and valleys of Vermont. 
I say "was" situated because, although the house has not been des- 
troyed, for me it no longer exists. What I call "home" is merely 
a memory of former days— a dream of what might have been. In place 
of my home now stands a semi-modern structure which is said to be 
the old home remodeled, but which I find utterly strange. 

Liy home, seven miles from Liontpelier, the state capitol, 
could be reached by following from 3arre City a wide, dusty road 
or a narrow, still dustier road into the country. The old home- 
stead was about thirty yards from the xt>ad and approachable in 
either direction by drives which, with the road, cut a triangle 
in the spacious lawn. The barns may have been painted before my 
time, but 1 saw them as dull-looking, weather-beaten structures. 

In contrast, the house was beautiful— large, white, and rath9r 
squatty. The real glory of the exterior was the front door, 
designed in the Doric style, graced by lilac bushes on each 
side, built of wide panels finished with brass fittings. 
The only flowers besides lilacs near the house were sweet-peas 
and old-fashioned pinks. In b ick of the house stretched the 
fields, seventy acres of gently- rolling farm lands. 

The kitchen was large; the wall, papered; the floor, 
linoleum-covered. Y/as it six or seven times a day that I bumped 
my shins on the oven door of the huge wood range? The living 
room was rectangular, with a ceiling covered with ornamental 
metal. I remember particularly a large chest of drawers--little 
drawers, middle-sized drawers, big drawers. The three big drawers, 
in the bottom row, contained unmended stockings, rug rags, and 
children's toys. The room was neated Dy a register from the furnace. 
3etween the parlour and the ultra-special guest room, a lady was 
said to have dropped dead for apparently no reason at all. Nat- 
urally, her ghost hovered near by. 

My playroom was a veritable paradise of dolls, their ac- 
cessories, and old clothes. How I loved to "dress up." The dark, 
dark hallway at the top of the short staircase contained one cor- 
ner which I would, to this day, pass quickly, not daring to breathe. 
Such fear is the effect of childish fancy, which, after all, is 
half the glory of being young. 

Someday, but not in this world, I might return to my home 
and find it as it was when "every common sight to me did seem ap- 
parelled in celestial light." 


Ufa '\> 


"Not my hair J" mad© the girl her moan- 
"Tieave my poor gold hair alone l" 

— Browning 

A source of great irritation and many tears was my hair 
style when I was a little girl, Mother and I had different 
ideas as to how I should wear my hair. Mother liked it short; 
I wanted it long. I wanted to part my hair on the side; Mother 
wanted it parted in the middle. Mother thought bangs were cute; 
1 thought they were hideous. Uother liked it shingled; I hated 
it. 3ut of course Mother had her way and I wore my hair very 
short, barely to the tip of my ears, parted in the middle with 
bangs that came halfway down my forehead, and shingled in the 

Now, my mother is a very remarkable person, ohe can do 
almost anything, ohe can cook, sew, wash, iron, chop wood, build 
fires, keep house, repair furniture, paint the walls. But one 
thing she is not, never has been, and never will be— a good sub- 
stitute for a barber. 

I'll never forget the time that she gave me a hair cut. 
It was a few days before pay day and Mother never has money a 

few days before pay day. Bather than have the barber cat my 
hair and pay him later, she decided to trim it herself* 

bhe wasn't nervous and I sat very still, I'm sure. But 
somehow she had left one little strand longer than the rest and 
had to cut it off. Then she found another one a little bit 
longer than the rest and snipped it off with her rcisrors. She 
viewed her handiwork but it didn't suit her. It war still un- 
even and just one more round would even it up. So she started 
again. But Mather didn't finish the job. Y/hen she had cut my 
hair almost to the top of my ears and still it was uneven, she 
thought she had better stop. That's what I had been thinking 
ever since she started. My head always felt kind of bare after 
a hair-out; but after this trimming, it felt positively naked. 

Mother sent me to the barber to get it cut right. But 
there was very little he could do. He told me to tell my mother 
to do her work but to leave such jobs as this for him to do. 
I don't know whether he was amused or exasperated at seeing what 
Mother had done to me. 

My hair grew to its usual length in a little while. Mother 
never gave me another hair-out. Nobody cuts ray hair now unless 
I am sure he knows how to do it. 


"Let us worship God." 

— Burns 

I sometimes wonder if we "attend" church when we go to 
the place of worship, or whether we "go" to churoh. It is very 
interesting to sit in the choir loft on morning and 
watch the faces of those who are in the congregation. Some of 
the people are there to make out a schedule for the coming week, 
while others are there for the purpose of worshipping God and 
drawing closer to Him. 

My conviction concerning church attendance is that if we 
cannot come to the House of God with the purpose of worshipping 
Him, we might as well stay at home in our soft, warm beds* 
Sometimes we do not reverence the House of God or use it as He 
would have us do, thereby grieving Him. We may be unconscious 
of our attitude, but nevertheless we must be careful when we 
come in contact with the sacred things of God. 

Can we remain in a state of grace and have the blessing 
of God upon us unless we meditate upon Him and His will when we 
attend His House? 


"0 wilderness of drifting sands, lonely caravan I" 

— D. Ross and A. Coates 

To most of us, Twenty Mule Teas means no more than 
another name or brand attached to some by-product of the borax 
industry, but in the development of the West it has an inter- 
esting historical background. 

When I see this brand on an article, it suggests a vivid 
picture of a period more than half a century ago. It seems as 
though I am looking far out over the vast expanse of a £>ortion 
of the Great American Desert, Death Valley, the worst death trap 
to the early western immigrant. 

For a few moments nothing but dry, alkaline, sandy, life- 
less landscape presents itself; but as my gaze travels over this 
desolate waste of sand and shimmering heat waves, I discover a 
tiny smudge of dust on the horizon. As I watch, it grows larger 
and I realize that some living thing is moving in my direction. 

I can dimly disoern within the approaching dust cloud a 
number of strings of fly-like, moving creatures. It is a caravan 
coming across the valley. The foremost string proves to be a 
twenty-mule, jerkline team hitched to two huge, lumbering freight 

wagons coupled together in tandem and each loaded with borax. 
On the high seat of the front wagon of each outfit (for all prove 
to be alike) sits a dusty, bearded, tobacco chewing, swearing 
mule skinner with a long coiled whip in one hand and his jerkline 
in the other* 

Borax is also found in several other desert wastes of the 
western country, although this land seemed worthless and God- 
forsaken to the early settler, it has proved to be a valuable asset 
to iudustry. Millions of dollars worth have been lost ana acquired 
in Death Valley alone. Other men, as well as the old mule skinners, 
nave suffered torture and death for the sake of the borax industry. 

The twenty-mule jerkline team itself has become almost 
legendary, although there are still a few in existence. If ^d Bir- 
mingham, an aged mole skinner and teamster residing near Paso Rabies, 
California, is still living and able, he Pitches up his old team of 
jerkline mules once a year and leads the Pioneer Day at Paso Babies. 

Many are the stories told by the old mule skinner. He likes 
to tell of the dust storms, the heat, the hardship and suffering he 
has experienced on his numerous trips. He likes to tell of the 
races he has had with other nr.ule skinners hauling borax out of the 
desert. He likes to orag about the ability of his team of mules 
and the size of the load they could pull. 

"?wenty-Mule Team" is more than a name to a Westerner, for 
it holds a fond place in his heart, as one of the very important 
accomplishments in the making of the West. 

V^-y $ ^^ 

w, You have waked me too soon, I must 
slumber again.*" 

— Isaao Watts 

The inventor of the alarm clock did not realize the pain 
he was to cause all future generations from his time to the present. 
Whoever this brilliant personage was, he would indeed be surprised 
to discover how universal his invention has become, and how men 
have utterly failed in their efforts to save mankind from this 
uncalled-for brainchild of a diabolical mind. 

The first alarm clock was probably a crude affair, designed 
solely for the purpose of awakening a tired sleeper at an unearthly 
hour. The jangle of the bell must have served as admirably then to 
awaken its intended victim — and the entire household as well— as 
does its modernized and streamlined counterpart of today. The old 
adage, "You can't tell a book by its cover," certainly holds true 
for today's clocks. Despite all that modern uesignists may do to 
improve the appearance of the clock, the evil is still hidden in- 
side ready to strike uncerimoniously when the hour has come. 

For the ladies, a small clock in dainty boudoir colors has 
been devised. When one of our feminine friends decides to retire, 
she sets the clock and goes off into a sweet sleep with the happy 

thought that nere, at last, is something new — something that 
will awaken her gently, quietly, and with least resistance. 
Day dawns. A faint click is heard from the clock; then, a 
tinkle like that of a music box. A dainty hand stirs, but 
the musical clock has not yet succeeded. Trying a little bit 
harder and a little bit louder eaoh time, the clock keeps up 
the musical tones, stopping at measured intervals. Still 
there is silence from the sleeper. When the soothing tones 
have lulled our fair lady back into a semi-conscious state 
instead of awakening her, according to the inventor* s theory, 
to listen to the beautiful melody, the alarm rings, loud and 
insistently, much to the surprise and chagrin of its victim. 

The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Early 
Bisers has not been able to perfect any device for the mascu- 
line world. Some bright member, however, reasoned that the 
tick of a clock could be loud enough in itself to awaken the 
sleeper. Consequently, we have on the market clocks with an 
extra loud tick, guaranteed to awaken one in the morning, and 
guaranteed, 1 might add, to keep one awake all night. 

3eing a member of the group opposed to alarm clocks, I 
propose that they be dispensed with entirely. V/e need be 
slaves to this mechanical master only of our own volition, and 
we can just as voluntarily take off our yoke of bondage. Why 
must we suffer the noisy intruder each morning, as he suddenly 
explodes with all the energy he has collected during the night? 
A slowly degrading people we seem to be, to allow a mere mechani- 
cal monster to spoil an otherwise good morning. However, until 
the time we can find a more satisfactory method for starting the 

day, we must obey his commands. Until sach time, though, 
I will endure a rude awakening each morning at six-thirty 
o'clock, roll over, and sleep until seven. 


"Words are rather the drowsy part 
of poetry; imagination the life 

of it." 

— Owen Felltham 

lay favorite poem? I have none. How can i have a favorite 
poem when so many master minds and dreamers expresr my thoughts 
more clearly and infinitely more beautifully than I can think them? 
When I am happy, I like a happy poem, singing-, like children's 
laughter; when I am pensive, I like a quiet poem, sighing, like 
wind through maple trees on Sunday evening. 

Poems are like friends. The better you know them, the more 

you like there. Only after reading Wordsworth' s Lines over and over 

again did I have the faintest glimpse of its deep meaning: 

** — I cannot paint 

What then I was. The sounding cataract 
Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, 
The mountain and the deep and gloomy wood, 
Their colours and their forms, were then to me 
An appetite; a feeling ani a love, 
That had no need of a remoter charm." 

I see the picture and hear the sound intended by the poet. 

I also see a rlowing stream — quiet, shady, cool. I think of a 

great soul like Abraham Lincoln — pure, strong, deep — infinitely 


ybiAU^JL. VGAuy<*o~r^ 

"Cold autumn, wan with wrath of wind and rain." 

—A. 0* Swinburne 

As we entered Caribou Valley, we were awed by the lone- 
liness and silence* i'he sun, having failed to warm the late 
October afternoon, had slipped behind a range of mountains un- 
known to us. When we stopped walking in the two inches of 
sticky wet snow, our feet became as numb and cold as Satan's 
heart. Dead, dry, grayish-white stumps dotted the valley like 
tombstones and indicated that it had at one time been flooded. 
This theory was substantiated by an old log dam, long since 
useless, and now moulding and decaying. The sentinel-like 
framework of the dam standing perhaps twenty feet high, the 
faint moaning of the wind through the ancient stairways, and 
the swishing of the dry marsh grass produced a solemn, almost 
ghostly atmosphere. 

Night came on so fart that we could not find a suitable 
place to camp for the night. We had to build our fire on the 
steep rocky bank between one end of the dam ana the heavy fir 
growth on the top of the bank. It is doubtful that a forest 
fire could have driven back the cold that night. The wind 

did not blow hard or in great gusts. There was instead a 
very easy breeze, but it crept down through the valley to 
our oamp as relentless as Old Man Time himself. That breeze 
struck icy daggers into our very marrow. To warm our backs 
we had to freeze our faces. Our heavy blankets seemed no 
warmer than thin sheets. That night was torture. 

When what seemed like years had passed, the dull grey 
dawn began to break. ..e had hoped for sunshine and warmth; 
rain and sleet came instead. The rain froze onto blankets, 
guns, food, dishes, camera lenses, clothing, and everything 
else that we had with us. 

What we had expected to find in Caribou Valley was a 
delightful paradise. We had imagined soft bough beds, a warm 
camp fire, tasty beans, steaming corn beef, and crusty toast 
and jam. We had intended to live in luxury. 

We found sleet, cold, misery, hunger, sleeplessness, 
and wretchedness. 

When we go back to Caribou Valley, we shall go in 
June. We shall take a roll of mosquito netting, a pint of 
fly repellant, and a pound of black fly salve in addition to 
our regular equipment. Then, and then only, will Caribou 
Valley be the paradise which we had supposed it was. 


". . .coir.fort. be out of the den- 
tist's hands." 

— ISmerson 

x'he Dentist is a peculiar creature who patters about in 
his tiny, incommodious office ana does as much ar possible to 
set you off your equilibrium for the day. Imagine anyone's 
wanting to be a uentist, whose cole aim in life must be to bring 
as much pain and misery into people's lives as he can. 

Take his waiting room, for instance. A? you enter you are 
impressed with its gloomy despair. The honorable doctor of den- 
tal surgery must certainly be a venerable man to have such old, 
dingy furniture. In the bookcase at one side are ponderous 
tomes full of all the discoverable knowledge about teeth. Of 
course, there is always Gray's Anatomy . Mr. Gray must indeed 
have had an interesting anatomy since such a large book was 
necessary for its description, a little toy is always provided 
for playful children. I I have never seen a child playful when 
near the Dentist.) There is a table with magazines, inevitably 
a month old, in careful disarray. Above this you may be sure 
to find a mirror which may or may not give an accurate reflection. 

Pungent odors penetrate from the inner sanctum, .c.bove all 
there is a silence. 

A painfully quiet man leaves the office meekly with the 
pleasant injunction, "Gome back next Lionday," ringing unplea- 
santly in his ears, whereupon a young nurse beckons you toward 
the chair. That beckon always reminds you of the approach of 
Death, smiling deceitfully. The chair is an affair probably 
made by some lunatic for the express purpose of frightening 
small children. You climb in, and the nurse attaches you there 
permanently by means of a trhite cloth. (It's a white cloth they 
use to cover you when you're dead, isn't it?) 

Then the Dentist appears with horrible instruments like those 
used in the Spanish Inquisition. You 'open wide." For eterni- 
ties he scrapes your teeth, trying to make cavities; then he 
happily announces that he has found five. He'll fill two today. 
Oh, joy, you shudder. Next he proceeds to blind you with lamps 
meant only for photographers. Piece after piece of cotton is 
adaed to your mouth's collection. Is taat a bee in the vicinity 
of your nose? Oh, no, only the drill. It is inserted into your 
mouth, and the Dentist immediately prodeeds to find your tooth's 
nerve and leave the drill burring there. All grimaces and winces 
avail nothing; the Dentist is ruthless. Now he prods into the 
hole, puts more bits of cotton in, and leaves you with your mouth 
wide open. He makes the filling. After you have nearly choked, 
he places hard cement obviously intended for sidewalks or trees 
into your precious tooth and packs it down hard. And adding in- 
sult to injury, he squirts your mouth full of hot air. 

Now he leaves you once more, this time for a chat with his 

nurse. What is she doing tonight...? Should he give Urs. 
Simplehead gas next time...? How is dear Aunt Agatha...? 
These are but a few of the questions he asks, naturally, 
long explanation or discussion is necessary for each question. 
They talk in low tones as if they were plotting against you; 
hat eventually he remembers in a sudden brainstorm that you, 
his patient, are still seated, alive, in his chair. 

"That will be all for today. Come again next Friday. 
Three dollars, please," he ^urrs. Ah, you feel that you will 
willingly present him with a ten-dollar check if you can get 
out of his clutches. 


her <mTmmrr 

"The woods are made for the hunters of dreams 

The brooks for the fishers of song; 
To the hunters who hunt for the gunless game 
The streams and the woods belong." 

— Sam Walter Poss 

In northwestern Pennsylvania we have many deer. They 
stay hidden in the dense part of the forest during the daytime, 
but at dusk they venture out into clearings, open fields, and 
apple orchards for food. 

In the autumn it is a popular sport to rent spotlights 
and drive through a forest spotting the deer that have come near 
the road to eat. The light changes hands often because there 
will be an open space to the right and then to the left* The 
eyes of everyone follow olosely the lighted radius. The color 
of a deer blends so well with his background, that we do not 
look for the deer but for two shining, glistening spots — his 
eyes. When the deer are spotted, we stop and keep the light 
focused on them. It is a wonderful sight to see these beauti- 
ful creatures frolicking about, eating, or just standing. The 
light does not frighten them, but noise will. 

Late last fall we planned a deer spotting party for a 
visiting friend. Since she oould not tell whether the word 
was "deer" or "dear," she thought we were trying to have some 
fun at her expense. 

The evening was olear and cool, .v'e drove for miles en- 
joying the fresh air and forests and fields lighted with moon- 
light, hat we saw no deer. It began to look as if Dot's sus- 
picions were correct .until someone spotted some deer. Me backed 
up and turned the light on the deer. To our amazement, we saw 
cows I By this time Dot was sure we were just "taking tier for a 
ride." Cows J She could see cows in Venango County without going 
out to spot them. After telling her that sometimes people coun- 
ted over a hundred deer along the road we were taking, we must 
show her more than cows. 

Suddenly we realized that the minting season for small 
game was open, and the deer were afraid to come out even at 
night. Our only hope was that there would be some in the apple 
orchards ahead. Finally to our delight we saw two deer standing 
under an apple tree* ?or some time they stood watching the light 
and then continued their eating. Further down the road we saw a 
fawn having its supper-time frolic. He would alternate between 
eating and running around. Everyone wanted to get out of the car 
to pet the fawn, but we knew that the few yards between us would 
increase to many if we moved. 

I have reen deer in zoos and parks, but have never then felt 
the thrill of seeing deer out in their natural surroundings. My 
thoughts always turn toward the Creator who made every living creature 

,$JlMA. sO. W? r-^lC IS 

"Welcome falls the imprisoning rain- 
dear hermitage of nature.'* 

— "Emerson 

For some people a rainy day is a punishment almost too se- 
vere to be borne. If they go outdoors they get wet; if they stay 
in the house, they get bored almost to death. 

But when I was at home, a rainy day was not a curse but a 
blessing. I could not go outdoors very xuch, but there was enough 
room in our buildings to invent any kind of game we wanted. 

Many mornings I have awakened before daylight, and hearing 
the rain beating on the roof over ray head, I felt a great peace 
come over me, for I would not have to work very rauch that day. On 
rainy days we did not have to get up very early; the rain was wel- 
come because it gave us a few extra minutes of rleep. 

Usually we had enough work to uo around the barn to keep us 
busy until nine or ten. Then we decided upon what to do first. 
Often it was to ^lay tag in the barn. How, anyone ca;j play tag on 
the ground, but we never stayed on the floor of the barn. In fact, 
I guess if anyone had come in while the game was going well, he 
would have thought there were a few monkeys there, just to see us 

climbing ladders and swinging on ropes, with someone close behind 
me, T have climbed up ladders and slid from high mows to the floor 
only to climb up again until one of us finally missed and the other 
got away. 

Playing tag in this way noon tired us out, so we started a 
less strenuous game. Very often we turned a couple of our barns 
into ships being tossed about by the sea and beaten on every side 
by the s^ray and rain* My father always had plenty of rope around, 
so that we could make a lot of rigging to aoist over theoretical 

One of the first things we had to do was to climb into a 
high window to fix a seat, where someone could steer the ship. 
From this high window one had a sweeping view of the rain-swept 
fields and the pond close by. 

The rest of us would get other places to comrcand, for we 
were always the chief of our part of the ship. One of us v/o^ld 
by the chief engineer, and the contraptions which we made to 
serve as our machinery were beyond imagination. 

Our old ship sailed many seas, but no matter now far we were, 
whenever evening came and £ad called us to get the chores done 
again, our ship made record speed until it dropped anchor safe 
at home, after a rainy day we were always Just as tired as if we 
had worked all day, but someaow getting tired the way we wanted to 
did not hurt so much. 

V/hen night came we were always glad to crawl between the 
sheets and listen to the patter of the rain. Maybe tomorrow we 
would have to face many battles, but tonight we were at peace under 
the protection of the roof sheltered i'rom the wind ^nd rain. 


"The day is done, and the darkness 
Falls from the wings of Kight." 
— Longfellow 

The sun has set. Now the delicate shades mingle 
harmoniously in the afterglow, at the western horizon a 
vivid orange lies unwrinkled; above this are streaks of pink 
and islands of deep violet. Beyond toward the east the sky 
gradually ohanges from light blue to blank darkness. All human 
founds from the cottage on the hillside have ceased. The chil- 
dren have stopped their play, and the bustle of preparing the 
hearty country supper is over. Bird songs which had formerly 
vibrated through the air lustily are silent. The wild fowl 
may be seen floating quietly, serenely, in the broad expanse 
of lake. Almost at the zenith of the heavens cold Diana im- 
patiently waits to drive her chariot. Suddenly, Night leaps 
up and claims the world for her own. 


"To each is given a bag of tools, 
A shapeless mass and a book of rules. 
*nd each must make, ere life is blown, 
A stumbling-block or a stepping stone.' 

— F.. t.. Sharpe 

Once I made a rug. It was a beautiful rug 1 — thick, warm, 
crocheted in bright wool. The design was not elaborate — three 
diamonds on a dark background — but its multi-colored, three-inch 
squares were so arranged that, while the color scheme attracted 
attention, it had the distinction of simplicity and perfect har- 
mony restful to the eye. 

This rug haa not always been a rug. It was the product of 
a book of rules, twelve large balls of yarn, and a wooden crochet 
hook. Three principles of crocheting I learned from my work, three 
laws which make for best results. First, follow the rules. Do not 
elaborate on them. Do not shirk the requirements of them. Do not 
deviate from them — ever. Second, choose colors carefully and dis- 
tribute them wisely. Because you like gentle mauve, exciting rose, 
dazzling white, do not over-emphasize them. The sober colors as 
well as the gay ones are essential to the design. Finally, retain 
the crochet hook. No progress can be made without it. 

I believe that my life is what I make it. *J "book of rules" 

is the law of the Universe which I comprehend more fully each year 
I live. If, for example, I obey the law? of nature, the voice of 
rcy conscience, and the teachings of the Bible, I should accomplish 
a substantial piece of "life-crocheting." Tf I wrong someone, I 
have "dropped a stitch," made an error. The stitch is part of the 
square and the square is part of the rug. Until T go back and make 
that wrong right, whatever constructive work I do in the "square" 
of my life is futile. 

Besides a "book of rules," I am given "twelve balls of yarn"-- 
time, talents, opportunities. I must use these materials to form a 
life. I must use them at the right time, in the right place, in the 
right way. If I always do what pleases me most, I can expect a dis- 
ordered life. If, indiscriminately, I work into my rug only the 
bright colored yarns, the design is nothing but chaos. 

But, after all, no matter how closely I follow my rules, no 
matter how delicatexy I choose my colors and design, I will never 
make a rug without a crochet hook. No matter how high my ideals, how 
vast my resouroes, I can never make a life without a will. Will is 
the power that sees beyond the present, that deftly ties the strag- 
gling ends of thought and experience into a single, continuous chain. 
Without the "crochet hook" of will, my "life-rug" will remain chaotic 
cally useless — "twelve large balls of yarn." 

At the end of the allotted time — and only then — when the rug is 
finished, will I see the complete design. Only then will I understand 
why I had to use black wool when I wanted rose. My book of rules will 
then be complete. My crochet hook will not be wood. It will be solid 
gold, shining bright, ready to weave a New Life. 


"A curious eye, privileged to take an 
account of stock." 

— wawt home 

I felt that I was in another world as I entered the general 
store that served the rural population of the section of Kentucky 
in which I was traveling. The red-haired man sitting on a salt- 
barrel squinted his eyes and uttered a greeting while clearing his 
throat. Even though it was a hot summer day, he was wearing his 
red flannel underwear which was very evident from the waist up, 
since that part of him was not covered by a shirt or other super- 
fluous garment. 

I stood there for a moment waiting for someone to offer his 
services, until the red-haired man asked, "You a stranger in these 

When 1 answered in the affirmative, tie continued: "Well, 
Joe '11 be up in a minute. He went for dinner 'bout a half-hour 
ago. Yep, he ought a be here anytime now." 

There was nothing 1 could do but wait, for it was at least 
ten miles to the next service station, and my car aid not have 
enough gasoline with which to make it. 

I took my time looking about the store, examining par- 
ticularly the fine assortment of saddles in the baok room. I 
liked to hear the leather creak as I bent and twisted it. 

Noticing a door in one corner, I gave way to my curi- 
osity by opening it. X'he aroma of "good old Kentucky sorghum" 
greeted my nostrils, l^y appetite was aroused to such an extent 
that 1 spent several minutes there mainly for the pleasure of 
smelling the sweet aroma. 

I closed the door and went baok into the main part of 
the store. A man, evidently Joe, came in and took his place 
behind the counter. He started to take my order when he no- 
ticed the cat purring blissfully on the counter, between the 
candy and the hosiery departments. He scat ted the cat and was 
noticeably embarrassed, for he hastened to explain, "Got to 
have a cat to keep the mice away, but she's always gittin' in 
my road. Well, what'll you have, stranger? I've got anythin' 
from safety-pins to gasoline." 

"I'll take the latter," I said; "I've no use for 
safety-pins, yet." 

The red-haired man's guffaw naturally flattered my 
humorous attempt. 

I followed Joe out to the pumps, leaving the muddled 
odors of tobacco, candy, molasses, and a hundred other items 
which are carried in general stores. After the tank nad been 
filled, I paid Joe and started the engine, waving good-bye 
to "Red-Beard," who was not standing in the doorway, I started 
down the highway, thankful tor my interesting visit to a gen- 
eral store in Kentucky. ffa&d f^OSfrkz 


"Like truths of Science waiting 
to be caught." 

— Lord Tennyson 

My career is chemistry. 

In high school I had never taken chemistry but had had a 
semester of physics, with just enough chemistry to find out what 
a fascinating subject it is, and just enough of it to make of me 
a disciple* 

Chemistry is a very complicated subject — a subject in which 
there is never a pause in progress. Every day something new is 
happening; a new product is discovered; something else is improved. 
l?or example, oeoause of the silk shortage, women's stockings are 
now maae of nylon, whenever there is a neeu, chemistry comes to 
the rescue. 

Often chemicals don't conform to set regulations. One per- 
son may do a certain thing and get one result while another may do 
the same thing but get an entirely different result* 

Thus chemistry with its mysteries and romantic aspects draws 
me on, all the while enfolding me to its breast and injecting into 
my blood a serum compelling allegiance to it and to no other. 

"But the word of the Lord endureth 

I Peter 1:25 

In these days when "men's hearts are failing them for fear, 
and for looking after those things which are coning on the earth," 
in this age of the infidel and the skeptic, it is essential for 
every Christian to know definitely why he believes the Bible to be 
the true, inspired word of God. 

This is an age when men want a reason for doing things. 
Heligion is the most reasonable thing in the world. Anyone who 
isn't sure he believes the Bible, but is willing to search for the 
truth, can find many proofs that the Bible is the true word of 
God. The Christian way of living is the practical way. The Chris- 
tian life is the normal life. Any other is really abnormal. 

1 have many reasons for believing the Bible to be divinely 
inspired. Have you ever stopped to think what a task, what an un- 
dertaking it would be for anyone to destroy the Bible? God has 
been very careful to guard it well and He has it fixed into every 
bit of human history. Anyone who tries to destroy the Bible must 
collect many million copies of it, which have been printed in hun- 
dreds of languages, then circulated throughout the world. He must 

go into the world's libraries, upon the shelves of which are countless 
books in which the Bible has been referred to and reprinted. He must 
destroy millions of dollars ' worth of valuable paintings: such master- 
pieces as "The T.ast Supper," by Da Vinci. Next he must destroy our 
finest music. He must silence the rongs that hare been written by 
such masters as 3ach, Handel and others. He must destroy marble and 
granite of rare beauty containing inscriptions of Scripture. ^e 
must silence radio broadcasting stations which are declaring its 

Then, has he destroyed the Bible? Definitely not, for God 
has provided still other ways of revealing His word. The destroyer 
must enter into the hearts of millions of saints who have found 
comfort, nappiness and satisfaction in that great Book. 

I believe the Bible because it cannot be destroyed. No lit- 
erature, no book, has ever been attacked as the Bible has. From 
the first of its existence until now, it has been fought by many 
atheists, skeptics and infidels, but yet it remains unchanged. 

./hy haven't these attacks had the power to destroy the Bible? 
Because it is impossible to destroy God, and the Bible is His Word, 
which can neither be changed nor destroyed. 

I believe the Bible is divinely inspired because it is the 
only book that unlocks all human mystery. Scientists fail to tell 
the origin of human life. What does the 3ible say? "Tn the be- 
ginning God" — that is enough. If we would only follow the directions 
as laid down in the Bible, our .lives would all be much happier. 
When we have problems to solve, burdens to bear, or even when all 
seems to be going along smoothly, we can derive much help by reading 
and rereading the wonderful lines of inspiration in the Bible. 
There we can find an answer to all questions, if we read and study 

it carefully. 

1 believe the Bible because men of all ages hare had to ad- 
mit its divine inspiration. Gladstone said, "I've rpent seventy 
years of ray life studying that Book to satisfy ray heart. It*s the 
word of God. I bank my life on the statement that I believe this 
Book to be the solid rock of Holy Scripture." Grant said, "Hold 
fast to the Bible as the sheet-anchor of your liberties." 

In spite of the fact that the Bible has been thrown out of 
many countries today, it will still live on, and on, and on. 
Hitler, Stalin, or no one else can take it from us and destroy it 
completely. "The word of God shall Ftand forever." 




— — 


Z^~/"' « 

"3owed by the weight of centuries he leans 
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground.' 1 

— Edwin ilarkham 

One who has never been in the South nor seen a share- 
cropper would ?ay that he is one who lives on a farm and works 
the land for a part of the harvest, the owner furnishing the 
seeds, tools, ana implements and the share-cropper furnishing 
the labor. This sort of definition is made by one who has never 
led the life of a share-cropper. It is a cold, impersonal defini- 
tion stating none of the problems, toils, and deprivations felt by 
that man and his family. It gives nothing of the cruel, heartless, 
and pitiless practices of the absentee owner, and the toll which 
nature takes of the share-cropper and his family. 

But my definition of this man would be different. I would 
describe him as one who, buffeted by all the evil traits of human 
nature and harnessed by all of nature's forces, is trying to eke 
out a mere existence from a land that is barren and desolate, de- 
prived of all fertility by erosion and planting and replanting of 
the same crop year after year. But this man, even though he knows 
better, cannot change his crop, because if he did, he would starve. 

If by some queer quirk of fate this man's crops fail he 

is left without food or clothing until the next harvest, if he 
can hold out that long. 

If the share-cropper wants a new pair of overalls, he must 
take a few bushels of corn and sell it to the miller, and then 
and only then can he buy the pair of overalls that he so badly 
needs. He works from dawn until dark in the fields, then goes 
to bed realizing that he must do the same thing tomorrow, the next 
day and the next, with very little hope of escape from what is 
virtually rlavery. Yes, a share-cropper is really a slave of the 

Then the worst comes, because his crops have failed or 
because he can't produce enough to suit the land ownert he learns 
that he must move. He goes from farm to farm trying to find 
somewhere, anywhere, that he can move to provide a home or rather 
a shelter for his family. Perhaps he will have to move into an 
old, dilapidated house fit only to be used as a barn, but there 
the man moves and starts his work anew. 

If he is fortunate, very fortunate, he may receive a letter 
from a brother who had left that country, and had come North while 
he was young and unmarried. The brother promises him a job if he 
will come to take it. How is he ioing to travel six hundred miles 
without a cent in his pocket? Then another letter arrives, a God- 
send, stating that the company for which he is going to work will 
send nim the money to come. 

Finally the letter arrives with a money-order in it to oover 
the expenses of the trip. Selling what little he has, he hasffly 
packs his few clothes in an old trunk and starts northward, with a 
sense of freedom which he has never felt before. 

And this is the way, and almost the only way, that one of 
these men may free himself of this slavery. 

These experiences are not a product of my imagination. 
They actually happened to my family when I was young, but not 
too young to retain the impressions of this slavery. 



id Thomas, the Cardboard outup, was blowing off steam as 
usual. He was bragging about his ruggedness to Dick Ctumpf, 
the Mansion Heavyweight, and to Bill .lacK&y, the Iiianchester 
..ild -Ian. Be siring to show their superiority over the Outup, 
there two decided to take him down a notch. But they didn't 
have a ghost of a chance. A skunk needed to be extricated 
from underneath the gymnorium. Jhe Heavyweight and ild l.:an 
each in turn want in after Mr* > kunk and returned almost im- 
mediately but very highly perfumed. When the Gutup went in, Mr. 
■ Icunk came out. 

astrid Park got her wires crossed one night when she preached 
at a iMission in Boston, che used the story about janiel in the 
lion's den for a scripture, but somehow she had poor old Baniel 
down in there tempting Lir. Lion for thirty days. 

Stradivarius didn't need to cut his hair; he carried his 
violin under his arm. Our sympathy goes out to Balph Plaagaer; 
he has an awful task lugging his piano around. 

when Uerle uray was hi^h up in a certain tree on the Campus, 
he was singing "1 need thee, 0, 1 need thee." '..hen he ^ot oack 
to the ground a few minutes later, he changed his tune to 'How 
firm a foundation. ' 

It's been told that in tree work Amos, Beck, Grray, and 
Jordan nave considerable difficulty with the squirrels. 

She other day Jick Beck was mowing the lawn with the power 
mower. He couldn't gear it down to his usual snail-pace. £8 a 
result he had to step out and move to keep from being dragged ..round. 

Lady Esther Imovsf none of the freshman girls such as "flutoh 1 
Olcott or Huth Reynolds would lower themselves to take the 
handles from the water faucets in the third floor bathroom. 

One day in one of our large universities a friend of the 
chemistry professor came to visit him. ^he friend heard the 
students calling the old professor Lir. ~anka, and the friend, 
knowing Sanka not to he the professor's name, asked the students 
why they called the professor toy this name. Jne of the brilliant 
students replied, "Have you ever re^d the label on a can of Sanka 
Coffee?" 'J he visitor said, I don't /now as i have. "Well, ' 
said the student, "the label says all the active ingredients are 
removed from the bean." 

Chemical analysis of , t oman 

at last a chemical analysis of woman has been found: 

Symbol— WO 

A member of the num&n family. 

Occurrence — can be found wherever man exists. 

Physical Properties— all colors, shapes, and sizes; surface 
of face seldom unprotected by a coating of paint or film of powder; 
always appears in disguised condition; boils at nothing and freezes 
at any moment; melts when properly treated; very bitter if not used 

Chemical properties — extremely active; possesses great 
affinity for gold, silver, platinum, ^nj precious stones of all 
ki.aus; violent reaction when alone with man; .toility to absorb all 
kinds of expensive foods; turns green when placed next to a better 
appearing sample; ages very rapidly; fresh variety har great mag- 
netic attraction; high explosive and likely to be dangerous in 

inexperienced hands, 

It has been said that— 

the moon not only affects the tide, hut also the untide. 

you can always count on your fingers. 

an army is totally destroyed when the soldiers are all in quarters 

a room full of people may he said to he empty when it has not 

a single perron in it. 
when laaies go to church they look for hymns. 
the relation of a door mat to the doorstep is a step father. 

A European was talking with a cannibal, who, hearing of the 
Great Va> racing then in Europe, was very curious to know how they 
managed to eat such great quantities of human flesh. The 
European aaiu, "We do not eat our slain foes." 

The cannibal looked at the man In horror, and asked, "What 
sort of barbarians are you, to kill without any real object?" 

Two men witnessed the forced landing of an airplane offshore. 
A fisherman set out to rescue the pilots but soon returned without 
them. "They were Germans," he explained. 

\3ut weren't they alive';" someone asked. 

"Well, one of them said he was, but you know how these Uazis lie." 

An Irishman, after visiting several of his favorite "pubis," 
was walking homeward by way of the cemetery. It was his mis- 
fortune to fall into a newly-dug grave and lie unconscious. 

In a few minutes it was dawn. ™hen the Irishman finally 
regained consciousness, he failed to remember where he was. The 
rising run and the surrounding tombstones gave him but one im- 
pression. "Begorrah," he said, "hit's Resurrection morn in I'm 
the first guy oopJ" 

Two ladies on their way to a party stopped at the home of 
I.Irs. Jones, thinking that they should all walk together. Mrs. 
Jones was not ^uite ready. Che left her five-year-old daughter to 
entert xin the ladies while she continued dressing. 

One of the visitors, thinking to talk above the child's 
understanding, said to her friend, "She's not very p-r-e-t-t-y, is 

The little girl retaliated with, "No, but I'm awfully 
s-a-a-r-t . " 


.e don't know what Louise Brown intends to major in, but 
all indications point toward her career as a Carpenter. 

It seems as though Cupid fires his darts into stomachs as 
well as hearts, xinyway Vernon Jordan nearly starred to death 
while Dorothy Clark was away during spring vacation. She should 
have left him the wooden spoon they won for a prize Campus Day. 

Our bass singer, Jack Laybury, searches no longer. At last 
he's found the right "Carol." 

~ary French became a bit careless while she was listening 
to 3ob Llaybury toot his horn, uupid was on the job and fired a 
whole volley of darts at them. :?ow ;.lary gets a toot from Bob's 
horn that no one else can. 

It isn't haru to guess what kind of a Payne has given 3ob 
Sawyer heart trouble. 

3ob I&nmel must be discouraged. News has gone around that 
he is corresponding with some r 'mail order company".. ..Girls, 
are you going to let him get away with that? 

Wouldn't there be a stir at S«S«C« if all the young ladies 
took as much interest in "'Church" as Cassandra -winhoe does? 

ildith Zimmerman has our best wishes. May she keep forever 

Yours truly, Grandpappy Amos, the S.IJ.C plumber, has 
been accused of ?.oing to the kitchen pretty often to see about 
a "Fawcett." It's a false-hood and I aon't wear a wig either. 
And furthermore I don't want my Deard clipped, lft sir-eel 

On to the .Dugout 

struggling with a complicated piece of trench trans- 
lation, I feel a momentary premonition of danger and a well- 
aimed pillow topples me neatly on the bed. The pillow is 
my roommate's method of reminding me that it is ten o'clock 
and time to go to the Dugout, ^way with French, away with 
history, away with rhetoric. We powder our, comb our 
hair, match as much money as we can afford, and cl-tter 
down the stairs, .^e find the yard full of coupler enveloped 
in moonlight and sweet silence, and the Dugout full of merry- 
makers enveloped in sweet smells and racket. Being oomparu- 
tirely prosperous, we enjoy hot dogs and soft drinks with our 
friends, idd at ten-thirty return reluctantly "dorm-ward '♦, 
but not -without a generous supply of brownies to flavor the 
eve ning. 

Louise 3rown 

Instant impressions 

Time is slowly falling snow wnich disappears soon after 
reaching the ground, never to be recalled. 

He was as gay and light-hearted as a pink balloon at a 

.he course of a broken field-runner in a football game- 
three dots and a dash for victory. 

1 string of large, cheap, bright _y colored beads reminds 
one of a woman with a shrill roice who talks too mneb and 
laughs too loudly. 

•Jur characters are like the shiny surface of a new car. 
They are likely to lose their raaiance if we do not keep then 
well polirhed. 

ihe leaves of a poplar tree by moonlight ire like silver 


xhe rcas-ty smell of an old cellar or closed room--liraburger 
cheese in the making. 

Grapevine 2ews 

. .'• G. has one official organ for spreading news about 
stadent life on campus. This bi-weekly paper gives each stu- 
dent a general idea of what is really happening on campus and 
also provides experience in journalism for some students. 77e 
also have another news organ on carepus what Is getting out 
editions twenty- foar hours a day. 

it is sometimes referred to as the 'grapevine" or "stu- 
dent gossip''. There are sections of it that can be definitely 
trace a to people, who might be called columnists or special 
feature writers. Lcrae of these self-apnointed members of the 
editorial staff specialize in reporting only a certain type 

of news. One example is the fellow or girl who hides behind 
a tree or bench to see some fellow walk past with a girl. Just 
one look ana he is off double pace to spread the reus. tional 
news. It is well known that one can.ot jo maoh here without 
everyone's knowing what he does almost before he does it. 

Jhe "grapevine" system is most efficient. It never fails 
to get the news "on the air" first before any other agency can 
sorea i it. he "Grapeviners" always have the "scoop'. 

Alton Higgins 

Assignment Monday 

It's time for your assignment, 

I must h..rry to get through; 
Sake down everything I tell yoa 

And you'll know just what to do. 
rlease give me your wftole attention; 

uet everything i tell you 'traight, 
It's for your rhetoric lesson Uonuay, 

and I won't accapt it lace. 

Head from some daily paper 

I I prefer the Bos -.on Globe ) 
A recent, len&thy editorial. 

.Lhen into its contents probe. 
Give the name ana date of paper, 

^n<J for once please try to think; 

Give the title, your reactioni 

rite this lesson out in ink. 

Now open up your Nelson deader, 

Turn to page one- seventy- seven; 
For with precision we must study 

-his essay of definition. 
Note the author's personal method — 

Generalized or is it not — 
Comparison, analogy, example, 

Concrete aetail, contrast, or what? 

Then on pages two->hmdred- seventy, 

And two-hundred-forty-nine, 
«re some essays of opinion; 

<e must give to them some time. 
Read through there essays carefully, 

And he prepared in olass 
To answer any questions. 

xhat I may choo. c e to ask. 

Jia some one make a comment? 

is that all for you? 
I admit I'm getting easy, 

But there's a little more to ao. 
in your iiodern Composition 

On page two- hundred twenty- five, 

Just answer the list of questions 
In the fifty-ninth exerciee. 

».ll the juections will be oral, 

Bat number four is the exception; 
..rite it )ut ana be specific; 

elaborate upon this question. 
i.'ow so far as I remember, 

^hat it all for you toJay; 
But I will not accept late papers; 

uet this done without delay. 

Harvey Amos 

E. N. C* Library 

At eight-thirty one 'Jaesday evening, I sat in the 
library, a pile of books on the table beside me. Pen in hand, 
I was trying, not too sueeas s fully, to ignore the fact that 
Dale rovvell was aiming a wad of paper at Freddie Haynes' head, 
and ihat the librarian didn't see him becaure rhe w-s handing 
a dismissal slip to iilice ueorge. 1 opened my Llodern Com- 
position to page o90 and read the chapter heading, 'Description", 
ineone opened the door, whereupon ...cot tie's aorsa-laagh 
re rounded as the inevitable reaction to a strong stimulus. 

After a little while, ^ick Hawk left the library, care- 
fully locking: the door. 1 waited to ^ee who would be the 
first to rattle the locked door and s una on the distracted 
librarian. It was Don jrickley. Ke entered, grinning, and 
took his place with Powell, Haynes, *nd uo. A game of 
footie ensued. In a far corner George Jelp b nt over a Greek 
Hew Testament. I could h-rdly see him because of a huge, 
huge book ^t his elbow. ~y eyes dropped to my work, and 
I finished the assi*;nment. 

Louise Brown 

**t the .-troke of twelve 

„hat ^>irl has not during her teens rend numerous books 
concerning the delights of boarding school or college life? 
Amour these- activities the midnight; spread is a favorite, 
but not until a girl has attended college can she appreciate 
the luxury of such a feast, -hose unaccustomed to strict 
adherence to three meals a day can realiy enjoy glasses 9f 
steaming hot chocolate, prepared over canned heat; thinly 
sliced tomatoes on tender bread thickly spread with fresh 
butter; crisp, salty crackers heavily smeared with straw- 
berry jam, tangy cneese, or honey; munchjr raisin cookies; 
pickles, Oliver, and all other delectable tidbits. <-^er 
rpiritr ar^ undampened by the fact that there are no plates 
and that everyone shares a eemmunal knife ind spoon, for all 
realize that this opportunity comes all too infrequently. 

Finally, to sink into oed exhaustedly after the orgy with 
that cteliciously uncomfortable feeling is little short of 
sheer ecstasy. 

Dana Payne 

3y Moonlight 

It was a pale, yellow orb, hardly distinguishable 
through the lacy network of shadowy trees. But gradually 
it rose in the dusk, and appeared above the treeto-ps. 

The earth w -s bathed in ;,ure gold. A cricket chirped; 
a dog invaded the quietness oy a sudden growl; ana a gentle 
breeze stirred the trees with a rhythmic rustle. 

-ights flickered here and there in the distance, but 
the soe'.e was unchanged. he tree* totk on a peculiar 
glow; the uushes became patches of pale darkness casting 
shadows upon tile moonlit ear^h. 

.Lhis was the campus by moonlight. 

ry drench 

if ray, Don J 

clatter! .plash: Bangl 

"Come on, .hix-tie, on the ball, we're in a hurry tonight. n 
It was bairtie's turn to wash dishes on rriday evening, and 
she neeaed no admonitioa that rriday night was rush night. 
Knocking a handful of so .der from the pitcher into her 

pan, she turned on the hot water which rushed humming orer 
the soap, splashing everyone within a radius of five feet. 
Dishes slid noisily into the pan and work was under way* 
The dining room door creaked open from time to time, admitting 
a murmur of table talk and a waiter whistling, or Mingledorff 
looking laughingly superior. 

"Tray, Don," called the rinser, and Don Freese, singing 
"Happy Day," carried the full tray to the cup-clicking dish 
driers. Boland Stanford, musically complaining that some- 
body else had taken his place, produced a variety of squeaks 
and groans by conrecutively untying five or six apron strings. 
"Jenkie" dropped a tray. The silver was hot ana easy to dry. 
Teaspoons tinkled rapidly into the drawer. A waiter's tray, 
heavy with glasses, slid squeaking over the shelf. One more 
saucer clattered into place with its fellows. 

"Tray, Don." 

Louise Brown 

Night in Harlem 
Dusk settled on Harlem bringing with it the noisy clamor 
of brass bands, the high whine of the soloist, and the rhythmic 
shuffle of feet. Unlike the quiet of country dark, Harlem became 
noisy, noisy indeed, with a jangling, nerve-wracking noisiness that 
only Harlem could produce. Even the color of the usual Negro dress, 
the gaudiness of the decorations, the general atmosphere of tar- 
nished, negroid glamor seemed to cry out with a discordant sound. 
1 was glad when our bus passed out of the city and the suburban 
lights twinkled through a quiet, friendly dark. 

Astrid Park 

I listened to the radio, bat alas, it was not there. I 
turned to ay beokease, ex_,ec ing it to be there, but again I 
was disappointed. Listlessly 1 walked the floor, searching 
the innermost parts of rey mind for it — anu then I found it. 
It was a l.hetoric theneJ 

liary French 

Mrs. Joakes was the die-hard isolationist leader of the 
neighborhood sewing circle. She had the attitude tat it 
didn't m<*ke any treat difference to us what happened in far- 
away plaaes xike ilanila and isatavia and said that anyone could 
get along without a thought of the lands beyond the Pacific. 
To prove her point, she began to go through a whole day with- 
out using products from that vague part of the world, .he 
hi-d to shed her silk stockings, .he couldn't take a shampoo 
because there was quinine in the hair tonic, ^he coujdn't 
take a shower because there was tung oil from ^hina in the 
batii curtain. he couldn't have a cup of tea or a cup of 
cocoa, .he couldn't tapieea or rice pudding. She 
ooulan't use olack pep er, white epper, cloves, or nutmeg. 
.he couldn't even take the canned food from trie neif because 
it was .rapped in tin. by this time Mrs* i>oakes was exhausted, 
ohe ^creamed and yelled threats at the Japanese and the Nazis. 
She rolled on the floor, laughing, moaning, and mumbling: 

"V/e'll snow 'eml .e'll show 'era! ?he dirty little J" 

Elizabeth Ennis 

"Do I Have to Get Up?" 

Brinnnnngj 6:30 A. II. Bill grunts and digs deeper into the 
bed clothes. ..lowly one by one the inmates of the Cardboard stagger 
into the bathroom to wash and shave, but Bill ignores it all. Of 
course, he is really awake, but he's just trying to persuade himself 
that he's not awake yet. Just a few more winks and he'll be up. 

Then Don's strident voioe is heard telling all the world that 
"It's nice to get up in the morning, but it's nicer to lie in your 
bed." At the same time Ed's tenor is letting everyone know that 
"T'is love and love alone that can repay," but Bill just bores 
deeper into his pillow to shut out that awful sound. 

What was that? Some one yells, "First bell J" 

3111 jumps once and lands in the middle of his room. Snatching 
his shaving kit and towel he dives into the bathroom. A swish, a 
scrape, a slap and he's back. A shove, a pull, and a tug. On go 
shoes, trousers, and sweatshirt. Three strokes with the comb and 
Bill jumps down the stairs three at a time. 

He made it. 

Vernon Jordon 

Y£ CLP£' 7VW£ M£OUW 

Judge. James King 

Squire • • Jack Maybury 

Parson Robert Coghill 

Butcher Bill liacKay 

Lamplighter J. C Dixon 

Blacksnai t h. Harvey Am© 8 

Auctioneer Boo Samel 

Constable Elmer Kauf fman 

Wit Al ten Higgins 

Grocer Carl Harr 

Sexton and Grave-digger Bill Bartlett 

School Harm Dana Payne 

nursemaid Lucille Sehaler 

Town crier • .Bob Sawyer 

Dog Catcher Richard Beck 

Stagecoach Driver Leonard Harding 

Choir Master Robert Flaugher 

Orator .Wesley Blaahly 

Patrick Henry Sddie Dell 

Dame Van Winkle Lenore Mai lory 

Rip Van ./inkle • Ralph Cushing 

Martha Washington Norma Mao Edward 

Katrinka Kathleen White 

Natty Bumppo Bill Lutton 

Ben jaain Franklin Horman Jordan 

Beau Bruamel Allan Hedberg 

Priscilla Dorot by Clark 

Jo hn Alden • ••••••• Vernon Jordan 

Phoebe • Aliee George 

Hepzibah Maud Cochran 

Mother Goose Cassandra Swinhoe 

Anne Bradstreet • • Louise Brown 

Pocahontas Betty Chat to 

Molly Pitcher • Wanda Sutherin 

Abigail Adams Dorothy Bryner 

Betsy Ross • Mary French 

Last of the Mohicans • Dick Lewis 

Deer slayer Dick StuKpf 

Pathfinder Harold Jone s 

Paul Buayon Ed Thomas 

Daniel Boone • Merle Grey 

Sty Pilot Everett Wild 

Belle Ruth Bingler Tomboy Butch Olcott 

Old Maid Astrid Park Chaper one... Ruth Mac Donald 

Faith 7anetta Kerling Hope Betty Ennis 

Charity Irene //illwerth Constance Beryl Granger 

Prudence Ruth Leete Patience.... ... Marie Austen 

Temperance Viola Dorerspike 

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